


Reminders

by Jennie_D



Category: Watchmen (TV), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennie_D/pseuds/Jennie_D
Summary: It was easy, usually, for Angela to forget.But sometimes things would remind her.Spoilers for Watchmen s01e07 "An Almost Religious Awe"
Relationships: Angela Abar | Sister Night/Cal Abar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

It was easy to forget. 

Most days forgetting was the easiest thing in the world.

They ate dinner, helped with homework, laughed, slept in each other’s arms. Work was stressful. It was a good life. A mostly ordinary life.

Cal and Angela had met in a bar. Fallen in love. Gotten married. That was all.

But occasionally the smallest things would bring it all back.

Remind her that this wouldn’t last.

Wasn't real.

* * *

Rosie was building up to a tantrum and Angela was losing patience.

“Why can’t we go to Frontier City! You promised!”

“Well that was before the car broke down. We can’t drive that far until it’s fixed.”

“Then fix it! I wanna go on the teacups!”

“We can’t Rosie.”

“Grandpa would take me!”

Angela bit the inside of her cheek. Choked down the words she was longing to scream. That “Grandpa” wouldn’t crawl out of a bottle long enough to take her anywhere.

"Go to your room. Now."

“No!”

“Now Rosie!”

“You’re mean!”

God this was too much right now. 

She heard the front door shut. Cal was back from the store. 

Rosie heard it too. She ran over to him. Threw herself in his arms.

“Daddy! Mom said she won’t take us to Frontier City!”

Cal tossed his car keys on the table, the grocery bags on the ground. Crouched in front of their daughter.

“That so?”

“She promised and then took it back.”

Angela rubbed at her temples. Cal gave her a sympathetic look over the top of Rosie’s head.

“Did she say why, Rosie?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Rosie sniffed. “Something about the car.”

Cal met their daughter’s eyes evenly. “Did she tell you that the car was broken?”

Rosie looked down. “Yeah.”

He smiled. “Well there you go. Mommy has a good reason. We can’t drive there if it’s not safe. Can we?”

She didn’t answer.

“Can we Rosie?”

“Guess not.”

She was finally calming down. Angela breathed a sigh of relief. 

Angela was so glad she had Cal beside her. He’d taken to parenting so quickly, easily. He played the good cop to her bad cop, and vice versa. They were a team. They needed each other to make this work.

“Now, will you apologize to Mommy for yelling?”

“Sorry Mommy.” The words were mumbled, quieter than Angela would have liked, but she’d take it.

“I forgive you sweet pea. Now go upstairs and color for a while.”

Rosie looked up at them. “But I still want to go.”

Cal smiled at her. “Tell you what. If you can learn to teleport and send your atomic signature across the state in the next hour, we’ll take you.”

He looked at Angela and gave a knowing little wink.

Too knowing.

Her blood ran cold.

Rosie rolled her eyes and ran upstairs.

Cal stood.

“I’ve still got groceries in the bike basket, mind helping me out?”

Angela didn’t answer. 

What had that wink been? Did part of him remember? Remember what he was, what he could do?

She stared into his eyes. Looked to see if Jon was staring back at her.

“Angela?”

She shook herself.

It was Cal. Only Cal.

“Of course baby.”

She went outside to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

They were going to the university campus at Norman for a co-worker’s wedding. Angela had no idea why anyone would choose to get married at their old college, but there seemed to be an almost cult-like fervor around OU. Seemed half the state had graduated from this place and never let anyone forget it.

Judd kept saying she and Cal needed to make it out to a college football game. Said then they’d “get it.” She was worried she’d run out of convenient excuses soon. 

It was an odd wedding. Half cops who couldn’t tell anyone they were cops, couldn’t explain how they knew the happy couple. 

Should have been awkward. Would have been, if not for the weird excitement so many seemed to feel being back at college.

The reception was wild and rowdy. Everyone was acting like a bunch of binge drinking kids. 

Well, almost everyone. She and Cal sat over by the makeshift bar, drinking cold beer. There were a few other subdued stragglers. Wade Tillman had been leaning alone in a corner for over an hour. See, this is why she respected Wade.

Angela was counting the seconds until it’d be acceptable to leave.

Judd though, Judd was in his element. At one point, he seized the microphone from the band and led the room in the school fight song, which everyone seemed to know and love screaming.

_“Sooner born, Sooner bred, when I die I’ll be Sooner dead! Rah Oklahoma, rah Oklahoma, rah Oklahoma! O-K-U!”_

She met Cal’s eyes and sent over a silent _When can we get out of here?_

He smiled. Leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Give it a few minutes, I’ll fake a message from the babysitter.”

Angela sighed. God she loved him.

A flash of movement caught her eye. Judd had leapt off the stage and seemed to be barreling right towards them.

Great.

“Abars!” he yelled. Christ, Judd was drunk as shit. “I’m glad you’re here. But I didn’t see you singing along!”

Cal shrugged. “Not my alma mater. Didn’t want to intrude.”

“Fuck it, it’s Dave’s wedding! Everyone’s a Sooner today!”

Angela looked over at the huge red and white banner covering the wall. 'Boomer Sooner' it read, over a cute cartoon covered wagon.

"Look Abars, come on up to the mic with me when we sing it again. It'll be fun."

"Don't know the words, Judd."

"Come on, it's easy. I want to hear you two sing. Y'all are supposed to have good pipes!"

Angela knew she shouldn’t start shit. 

She was going to anyway.

“Judd, remind me. What were Boomers and Sooners?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on now, Angela-”

“Weren’t Boomers people who campaigned to give land that belonged to the Cherokee to white settlers? And weren’t Sooners people who didn’t even wait for the law, just snatched the land out from under them?”

Cal smiled, long and thin. His eyes were locked on Judd. When he spoke, his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Honey, are you telling me Oklahoma University is celebrating white people stealing land?”

“I know baby, it’s shocking, really shocking.”

Annoyance was written all over Judd’s face.

“You didn’t have to take it there. It’s just history. Don’t have to make into such a _thing_.”

Angela opened her mouth to argue, but the band started playing some 80’s cock rock song and Judd leapt up, back to the dance floor. She was relieved he was gone. She liked him, but Jesus he could be such a piece of shit. 

She sent Cal a look, a look of wry exasperation and a hint of sadness, a look of being caught in a culture that valued all the wrong things, all the wrong people. A look of commiseration, of understanding, a look shared between two people who had grown up the same way in this world and were in on the horrible joke of it all. A look that meant, in short, _fucking white people_. 

And he returned it, dry little grin on his face.

Then she saw it. 

They’d shared this look hundreds of times before. She didn’t know why this time was different. Maybe it was the look not in his eyes, but behind them, something ancient and lonely and detached.

And she remembered suddenly that they hadn’t grown up the same way. Not really. 

He’d gone through childhood nearly a hundred years in the past, seen a different world through different eyes. 

And when he’d grown and split and broke apart, he’d come to see all of it in a way no one else had, in a way no one ever would.

In a way that was almost inhuman.

They weren’t truly the same. That mattered.

Even if he didn’t remember it.

She shivered.

Cal looked at his beeper, faked a message from the babysitter.

Looked like himself again.

So she stood up. Smiled. Tried to forget.


	3. Chapter 3

They were sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels. His arm was warm around her shoulders. She was tired, bone tired, so tired she couldn’t do much more than lean against him and offer advice.

“Don’t make me watch any more of that baking show, baby.”

“It’s nice!”

“It’s boring. There’s got to be something else on.”

They went up a channel. Some singing competition. Up again. Law & Order. Again. A weird infomercial about that guy who owned a bunch of tigers and was running for governor.

Cal stopped on PBS. Old footage. A helicopter was taking off near a pair of giant blue feet.

“Hey, I think this is that Ken Burns Vietnam documentary. Supposed to be pretty good.”

The camera panned up, up, up, finally reaching the giant empty eyes of a fearsome god. 

She shifted in Cal’s arms. They felt too warm against her skin.

Somewhere, somewhere behind these muscled arms and soft hands, somewhere behind those warm eyes, there was the being who had ended Vietnam. 

Who had slaughtered armies, fathers, brothers, without a second thought. Who had liquefied Phạm Văn Đồng and Võ Nguyên Giáp and Hồ Chí Minh, men that many had feared and others admired, had turned their minds and bodies to nothing in an instant. Fuck, half the people she'd grown up with in Saigon had lost family to Dr. Manhattan. 

As she'd told him the first night he met, he was the reason her own parents were dead.

_If it's any consolation, I do regret it._

He'd said it so casually all those years ago, like he'd gotten a little drunk and messy and had a bad one night stand.

Not like he'd slaughtered thousands. 

What kind of being was that, who could snuff out life with such ease, like squashing an anthill?

What kind of being was she for loving him?

Cal smiled at her. She felt a bit sick.

“Actually, I think I’m just going to head up to bed.”

Angela stood, turned, headed up the stairs. 

She didn’t look back at him. She couldn’t.

For hours she lie awake, trying to stop her mind from turning.

Eventually, Cal slipped into the room. Took off his jeans. Stretched and got into bed beside her. 

She turned to look at him. His eyes were full of concern.

“You okay? You left quickly before.”

He was a good husband, a good man. He wasn’t anything else. Not now.

She’d treasure this, long as she could keep it.

And the rest...well she'd deal with that when they got there.

Angela let herself sink into slumber in Cal's arms.


	4. Chapter 4

There was an old couple ahead of them arguing about which movie to see.

They’d been going at it at least two minutes too long. One wanted to see the new Romeo & Juliet, the other was lobbying for a documentary about WWI. They were going around in endless circles.

Angela clenched a fist. She half wanted to tell them to hurry the fuck up, half wanted to kick herself for not thinking to call and buy tickets ahead. At this rate, she and Cal wouldn’t have time to grab popcorn. 

A date night with no kids was too rare to deal with this shit.

She rolled her eyes at Cal. He grinned.

“It’s okay. Movie isn’t going anywhere.”

Angela scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I am not waiting until the 10:30 showing just because these two can't make up their minds.”

He laughed, threw an arm around her shoulders. 

She sort of wanted to stay pissed off at the situation, but it was impossible to be angry when Cal was smiling like that. 

The edge of Angela’s lips turned up. She rested her head on Cal’s shoulder.

A theater employee rushed up, opened a second window. 

Angela snapped her head back up. “Oh thank god.”

They got their tickets quickly and headed to concessions. The line stretched to the back of the room. 

“Fuck.”

Cal bumped her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve got a plan B.”

He reached into his deep suit pockets and pulled out two bags of Peanut M&Ms. Her favorite.

Angela smiled. “But don’t we need drin-”

From his other pocket Cal pulled out a slim silver flask.

She laughed. “Calvin Abar, are you sneaking outside food and alcohol into a movie theater? As an officer of the law I am _shocked_!”

He grinned. “Well, officer, if you’d let it go just this once, I’m sure I could find some way to thank you.”

Cal ghosted a thumb across her cheekbone, traced it over her lips. She pulled him forward, captured him in a kiss.

His hands gripped her waist, she wound her arms around his shoulders. 

He was so warm.

They broke apart. 

“Well fuck,” he whispered, eyes dancing. “We should just go on home and forget about the movie.”

She laughed, pulled away, hit him lightly in the shoulder.

“Oh no you don’t, Mr. Abar. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a night off? So help me, we are having a real date and seeing this movie.”

Cal was still smiling as he draped an arm around her shoulders. “Well then, lead the way.”

They made their way into the theatre, found a nice isolated pair of seats. Somehow they had beaten the previews, and took their time getting settled, comfortable. 

Right after they sat down, Angela spotted the older couple from the ticket line making their way in. 

She rolled her eyes.

“Looks like they went with a third movie option. Wonder how long it took them to decide. I hope those two won’t be as irritating during the movie as they were in line.”

Cal took her hand, threaded their fingers together.

“I don’t know. I think they’re kind of sweet.”

“How is holding everyone else up sweet?”

“It’s just nice that they’re still getting out there, going on dates with each other. I hope you’ll still let me take you out when I’m old.”

Cal looked so fond, so sweet in that moment. Angela smiled, opened her mouth to make some joke, say something about how ridiculous they would look when they were old and grey together.

And then she remembered.

They never would be.

Jon had done this, become Cal, so they could be together. At least for a little while. 

But the way he had described it...she and Cal wouldn't grow old and die together. 

Their time was limited. 

_10 years, and then tragedy._

She still didn't know what that meant.

Angela loved Jon. He _was_ Cal after all. She loved how strange and miraculous Jon was, how with him anything seemed possible.

But when Cal had faded and left Jon in his place, she’d never have this again. This perfect simplicity, this sweet blissful ordinary life.

She’d never grow old with Cal, never watch him go grey or throw his back out or reminisce about their younger days together. 

And suddenly she felt an enormous sense of loss. Felt tears stinging at her eyes.

Cal’s expression had changed. His eyes grew soft, concerned. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Angela turned her face away. Leaned her head on Cal’s warm shoulder.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m just so glad I’m here with you.”

The theater darkened, hiding her tears. 


	5. Chapter 5

There were some nights where Angela wondered what Cal knew, what Cal remembered. She’d catch a misplaced comment or an odd wink or a strange look, and wonder who exactly was peering out from under those eyes. Nights where she’d wonder briefly if something was wrong, before Cal did something refreshingly _Cal_ and calmed her fears. 

And then there were nights like tonight. Where something slightly slipped. Where she knew a small part of him remembered.

These nights were rare, blissfully rare. 

But when they happened, they threw her from normalcy violently, painfully.

Cal had been watching some show with Topher. She didn’t know what it was about, what it unlocked in her husband. What it made him remember. 

But apparently he had fled the room without a word to Topher, had locked himself in the bathroom for hours. 

He was sitting on the floor when she entered, knees hugged to his chest, eyes screwed shut. When he spoke, he was confused, desperate. 

Asked her, voice small, “I am Cal, aren’t I?”

She’d taken his hands, told him that of course he was, of course he was Cal. 

He’d sobbed into her arms like a terrified child.

Cal wasn’t usually one for intense emotion. 

She whispered reassurances and sweetness, whispered special words Jon told her to say whenever this happened. Words to help him forget. 

It worked. 

He quieted, came back to himself with a confused embarrassment. She cleaned him up, took him to bed, lay beside him as his breath evened out in the dark.

She didn’t sleep.

Nights like this, she always wondered where the line was, where Cal ended and Jon began. They were the same, she told herself. The same being. Jon was Cal Abar just... _more_. 

But whenever Cal slipped, those rare nights when he almost remembered who he was, what he was…he seemed so afraid. 

And she wondered if they were the same at all.

“There’s a light,” he’d cried into her, words muffled by her jacket. “Don’t let it take me. I want to be here. Don’t let it take me.”

She knew a day would come where his time as Cal would end. A day where she’d have to release Dr. Manhattan, bring him fully back to himself.

Would she be killing Cal, that day? Would he vanish? Or would some piece of Dr. Manhattan truly remember what it had been like to be Cal Abar?

And if a piece of Cal remained...would he hate her for destroying him?

10 years, and then tragedy. That's what Jon had said, the first night at the bar.

They'd already used up so much time. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the dark. “I’m so sorry.”

There was no answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Angela was practically climbing the walls in irritation. She curled the beads of the Sister Night rosary tight against her fingers.

“How hard is it to keep a damn appointment? With fucking detectives?”

“Patience,” came Wade’s steady voice. “Body isn’t going anywhere.”

She looked at him. At the smooth planes of his mask. Impossible to read.

It was infuriating. 

She needed to see that _someone_ was as irritated with this situation as she was.

A quick appointment to the morgue had turned into an hour long ordeal. 

She was supposed to meet Cal for lunch.

Anglea checked her watch. Again.

“Time’s not gonna move any faster just cause you keep staring at that.”

“Shut up, Glass.”

He shrugged, picked up some magazine from the coffee table. _This Land Today_.

She pulled the beads tighter, the sharp bite of pain a welcome distraction from the-

Quick, purposeful footsteps were echoing on tile.

Angela stood. Quickly.

A smiling white woman in a labcoat entered, extended her hand.

“My apologies, officers. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too long.”

Angela glared at the offered hand. “Our appointment was for 10:00."

The woman’s smile faltered. Her hand dropped.

“Again, my apologies. Things have been a bit crazy here this morning; a few people came in claiming to know our John Doe.”

“Any luck identifying him?” Wade said, standing and stretching.

“Unfortunately not yet. False alarm. I can take you to him right now if you like?”

“That’d be great,” Angela said, irritation dripping from every syllable.

They made their way through sterile white hallways, fluorescent lights shining above them. Eventually they came to the storage room. Angela shivered as the door was unbolted.

She hated the morgue. It always reminded her life was less stable than she'd like. 

They stepped inside and watched as the mortician unlocked a drawer, top right. Pulled it out slowly. Removed the sheet from the victim’s face.

And suddenly Angela couldn’t breathe.

“This is our John Doe. African American, height 6’1”, 210 pounds. Probably mid 30’s. Multiple stab wounds in the abdomen, scrapes and contusions on the lower legs and palms of the hands.”

He didn’t look like Cal, not really. The lips were all wrong, the nose too small, the eyes closer together. It didn’t look like Cal.

But his jaw was similar, his hair was cropped short, his skin the same deathly grey she’d seen all those years ago in Saigon. 

The grey Cal's face had been the first time Angela lay eyes on him.

She’d had many nightmares over the years, nightmares where Jon suddenly evaporated, where Cal grew cold, slowly turning that horrible grey.

_Hold it together. You're a cop. You've seen dead bodies plenty of times before._

10 years and then tragedy. What was the tragedy? Would she be forced to see Cal like this, cold and nothing, life leeched from his skin?

She felt vomit clawing at her throat.

“Sister Night!”

She looked up. Forced it down.

It was hard to tell behind the mask, but Wade seemed irritated.

“What, Glass?”

“The unusual shape of the stab wounds seems relevant, doesn’t it?”

Angela looked down.

She was holding the autopsy report in her hands. 

She didn’t remember taking it.

* * *

  
  


She fumbled through the rest of the appointment, shrugged off Wade’s concern when they got back in the car. 

An hour later Cal, smiling, brought her lunch from her favorite deli.

She tried not to see a dead man staring back at her.


End file.
